


Over

by olivemartini



Series: The Malec Chronicles [16]
Category: The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Angst, M/M, Malec, Whole lot of Angst, max just died
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-11-05 06:35:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11007984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olivemartini/pseuds/olivemartini
Summary: Alec smashes his fist into the mirror, watches the glass shatter and rain down around him.  He hears running feet and then Magnus is in the doorway, panicked and startled, but he doesn't look over at him.  He just opens and closes his fist, lets the blood drip off his hands and fall onto the marble in stains of scarlet.





	Over

They told him that it would get better, that he could use serving the clave and the heavenly mandate as a way to put it all behind him, like Max is just something that could be forgotten.  They told him that distraction is the best way to let yourself heal.  One of his father's old friends told him to go out and hunt some demons, that the rush that comes in battle works as an excellent salve when turning a fresh wound to scar tissue.

But there aren't any demons in Idris anymore, not with the battle being over and the reinforced wards lighting up the sky.  He tries to sleep instead, but every time he closes his eyes he sees new and terrible images.  He hears the roar of a battle going on in a city that was supposed to be safe, feels the splatter of ichor on his skin, watches an arrow find its way to Hodge's heart.  He can still feel the snapping in the parabatai bond, something he still hasn't been able to figure out, and remembers the panic that came when he thought that Jace had finally done what he'd been threatening to do since the age of twelve and gotten himself killed.  Above all that, though, he remembers sprinting back to the house to get to Max and Izzy when it looked like the danger had passed, hurling himself up the steps only to find Izzy lying on the ground with a fluttering pulse and hair spread out around her in an inky halo.  He remembers yelling for Max and getting no answer, bursting through the open door of his room only to see him bent and awkward on the ground, toy soldier clutched in one tiny hand, a puddle of blood still spreading out underneath him.  He closes his eyes, and he can only see the smoke from the funeral pyre, and in his dreams Alec chokes on the ashes until he suffocates. 

Alec didn't bother to sleep anymore.  He walks instead, out to the house that was given to the Warlock representative.  He had paced back and forth, stopped and stared up at the house, and finally made his way to knock on the front door.  Magnus hadn't said anything when he asked if he could stay, just opened the door and led him inside.  And when Alec had walked to the fridge and started to drink sour white wine straight from the bottle, he didn't say anything then, either, just tugged it out of his grasp and led him up to bed. 

He did manage to sleep for a few hours then.  It's easier with Magnus beside him to whisper things into his ear, when he has Magnus' arms holding him.  But he still closed his eyes and dreamed of death, and when he woke up with the sun, he slipped out of bed and made his way into the bathroom, where he splashed cold water on his face until he felt like he was really and truly awake.

Alec stares at his reflection, and suddenly he hates it, hates that everything has changed but he still looks exactly the same.  The need for him to feel triple the amount of fear and pain that Max must have felt comes back with an intensity that scares him.  He wants to make this feeling go away, so he does the only thing that makes sense at the time- He brings his arm back and smashes his fist into the mirror as hard as he possibly could.

The glass shatters with an impressive crackle, and the shards rain down around him.  Alec can hear feet pounding down the hallway and knows that this was an incredibly selfish thing to do, but he doesn't care.  Magnus rounds the corner, panicked and out breath, but Alec only stands there, opening and closing his hand, watching the blood fall onto the marble counter top in scarlet stains.

"Oh, Alexander."  Magnus breathes, and with a wave of his hand the glass vanishes so it's safe for him to walk across the room.  "What have you done?"

"I just-,"  Alec rips a piece of glass out of his skin. It felt good to be in pain.  "I just wanted to feel something different."

"It's okay."  Magnus stares at him in astonishment for a second longer, then rummages around in the cabinet until he found a first aid kit.  "We can fix it."

He tried to fix it.  He picked the glass out of Alec's knuckles and repaired the mirror, made the spilled blood (the blood he shared with Max) vanish with just a wave of his hand.  Alec made him promise not to heal the broken skin, so Magnus bandages them instead.  Alec wants to heal the mundane way, slow and ugly, a constant reminder of how he had failed and what he had lost. 

"I'm sorry,"  Alec chokes out a second later.  He's suddenly aware of how selfish an action that must have been, that Magnus is just as tired and in as much pain as Alec.  He had no right to drag the warlock out of bed for this, and it was Magnus' home that Alec had just invaded and destroyed, not his own.  It filled him with another layer of guilt, one that burned and made him so heavy with exhaustion that he feels like he might finally be able to sleep.

 

 

Alec understands Jace a bit more, suddenly.

He gets why he does the things he does, with the pushing people away and throwing himself out of buildings and into danger.  Why, upon seeing the person that he loved most in the world but couldn't stand being around, had had his first reaction be to put his hand through the window.  It's a problematic sort of reaction, but Alec can't help but see the appeal now, to take pain upon yourself like it might somehow lessen everyone else's.  To cut your palms and break your bones on purpose just so you might have a chance to control how you feel, and not just lose yourself in a sea of emotions that you can't control.  

Why sometimes you might sit at the kitchen table while someone cooks you breakfast, and instead of smiling and thanking them and telling them how grateful you are that they're alive, you just trace over old scars and pick at new scabs and itch for the battlefield.

"I'm sorry about your friend."  Alec blurts out suddenly.  Magnus freezes.  Alec had not touched his plate, and the food on it had gone cold- eggs, bacon, buttered toast.  Magnus, who had been eating, swallowed and looked like he was tempted to throw it all up.  It's a fierce reminder that Alec is not the only one in pain, and he reaches across the table to hold onto his hand.  "Ragnor.  I knew he meant a lot to you."

"Yes."  Magnus said, and he, too, pushed his plate away.  Sometimes you can't bother with eating, no matter how badly you need it.  "He would have liked you."

"I wish I could have met him."  Alec says, and realizes that he means it. Suddenly, he hates himself for all the time he wasted sneaking around just because he was afraid. 

"I'm sorry about your brother." 

"He would have loved to meet you."  And that was true, too.  "He was obsessed with magic."

Magnus smiled, and after a moment, so did Alec.  It felt out of place, but it felt necessary, too.

 

 

"I'm going for a walk."  Alec says, intending to do so.  Night was falling again, and he did not think he could face another night, another dream.  He did not want to stumble in that room and find his brother's dead body, did not want Max's eyes to fly open and his heart to beat just after the funeral pyre was lit, did not want to choke on his little sibling's ashes.  The night was calling for him, and he was already looking towards the feeling of his feet on the pavement, how he would walk until his legs screamed with protest. 

"No."  Magnus reaches out to him, drags the jacket from his shoulders and unbuckles his weapons belt.  Drags him back towards the bed, to him, to the dreams.  "Stay."

"I can't sleep."

"You can,"  Magnus kisses him, once, twice, and third time.  "It's over."

Alec knows this isn't true.  They told him that Sebastian was dead and the wards were back up, but he cannot help but think that there was something wrong, something that no one was able to figure out.  Things that Jace wasn't saying, that the adults weren't sharing.  And even if this particular battle was over, there would be more- more demons, more killing, more fighting, more blood, more scars and grief and pain.  It never ends.  "It's never going to be over."

"Yes," Magnus says, his cat eyes tired and sad.  He waves a hand, and with a wash of blue the hand on Alec's knuckles split together, the trickle of blood oozing from the scab on his palm washed away.  "It is."

 


End file.
